The Naked Drinking Club (37 page)

I nodded.

‘They said there were some people anxious to meet up with me, so I went in straight away and there they were. Almost as soon as I arrived, the eldest one, this Mary, asked me – quite aggressively, I have to say – how I knew about the baby.’

‘The baby?’ It was strange to hear me referred to as ‘the baby’, but they hadn’t been living with me all these years; to them I was still the baby, I suppose. ‘How many people came to see you that day?’ Hank was frustrating me now, leaving little bits of information out that I could use as a lead in this case.

‘Her husband, James, who was outside in the car.’ He sipped on his wine again, which annoyed me this time.

‘Sorry, what? Whose husband?’ I moved my glass away and leant in.

‘Mary’s. She referred to the man in the car outside as James, her husband.’

‘OK, Hank, don’t miss out any information whatsoever when you’re telling me this, please.’ I became overanimated. ‘I need to know every little detail. Who was there? The names. The vehicle registration. That kind of thing.’

‘Sorry, love, but I think getting the plates is expecting a bit much, don’t you?’ He drank from his wine, went red-faced and waited for an answer.

I shrugged, because I didn’t think it was too much to take down the car plates. But then, I had tunnel vision now, and all I could see was my faceless mother standing at the end of it. ‘What did the car look like, then?’

‘Uhm.’ Hank pressed the palm of his hand to his head. ‘White. A white station wagon of some kind, I think.’

‘OK, OK. Who was there again?’ I calmed down slightly.

‘This Mary.’

‘Uh-huh.’ I nodded.

‘James in the car, and a woman with Mary whom she referred to as a family friend.’

I looked questioning again. ‘Family friend! That could have been
her
.’

‘No way! I’m telling you, they were shit scared. There’s no way your mum would just show up. They want to protect her.’

I felt sad again for a brief moment at the thought of my mother protecting herself from me, but consoled myself with the belief that when she met me, she would regret that feeling, and realise it was just fear of opening up the pain from her difficult past.

‘What exactly did you say on air about me?’ I took a drink of wine and sat back a bit.

‘I told them I was passing on a message from a Joanna Thomson, who was looking for a Madeline Thomson, who married John Duffy in 1966, whom she believed was living somewhere in Australia, possibly Sydney, or Brisbane, or Melbourne even, and that if anyone knew anything, would they leave a message with the show.’ He finished reading from the file. ‘But I didn’t use any surnames, because I felt that would be a little too intrusive, you know?’

Pattana and I both nodded.

‘So why did they come forward if they didn’t want to know me?’ I didn’t miss a trick.

‘Perhaps they thought I might say more – like, mention your mother’s name, which I would never have done, I have to say, because I don’t think it’s right. And anyhow you hadn’t officially told me you were looking for your mother, even though I sensed as much.’

‘Then what?’ I got up and started walking round the table, taking my wine with me.

‘Poor girl, look at her, Hank,’ said Pattana, hands covered in soapy water, straining round every so often to see how I was taking things.

I felt awkward whenever Pattana showed concern. ‘I’m all right, thanks, just excited. This is massive, you know? Just massive!’

‘Tell her what happened after that, Hank.’ Pattana looked solemn.

‘Well, I thought that was the end of it until I got hold of you. But two days later, there was a knock at the door here and this Mary was there, looking very angry. She was with a tall quiet woman and they walked in, and this Mary lady started having a go at me. What business is it of mine? How I was an interfering busybody, how I should back off, and all
that
sort of stuff. I looked out and there was a bloke sitting in the car, maybe the husband or a brother I thought, I didn’t get a look at him.’

‘Jesus, Hank, why didn’t you call me straight away? And how did they know where you lived, and who was the other woman with her? I bet it was her. Fuck, Hank!’ I definitely needed the board now; there were too many characters involved to keep track of.

‘Listen, love.’ He took his glasses off and folded them away. ‘I had nothing but your protection in mind during all of this. I felt from talking to you on the phone that you could easily be hurt by this, so I wanted to take it easy until I knew more about the situation. I felt a duty, can you understand that?’

At this point I felt that Hank was mistaking me for a fucking moron.

‘What about the other woman, Hank?’ I wanted to get back to more important matters.

‘For the last time, love,’ he sighed. But it was too important for me to feel guilty about asking him to go over the details again.

‘I doubt if the woman with Mary was your mother, love, given the stink they kicked up about it all. I would have thought that she would have been kept well away. It’s like how I felt about you, I wanted to protect you from it – they would have felt extremely protective over your mother.’

‘Yeah, well, I don’t want to be protected from the truth, thank you.’ I felt slightly angry now, and was growing impatient.

‘Unfortunately, the truth is often the very thing that people need protecting from the most.’ Hank looked sad, glancing over his shoulder at Pattana.

‘How did they know where you lived, Hank?’ I got back to matters practical.

‘It’s not hard to track me down, love. I’m fairly well known around here.’ He smiled.

‘I wonder if they live in Brisbane?’

‘Well, I don’t know for sure but I’d say they did, based on the fact that they were at the station a few hours after I aired. I would say it’s highly likely.’

‘How come the woman gave you her name at all if they were so scared of everything?’

‘Just politeness. People here are nice people. Besides, it was just a first name, and I said I don’t talk to people and answer questions if I don’t know who they are. That’s when she introduced herself as Mary. I asked if she was a relative and she said she was, but it was none of my business and that she certainly wasn’t the mother in question. I looked at the woman with her and she reassured me that she was a family friend.’

‘And that was it?’

‘You see what I mean, kid? I don’t want you getting your hopes up, all this might lead you nowhere.’

‘My hopes aren’t down, if that’s what you mean. An hour ago I knew nothing – now I know they are real, that she exists, that I was made by someone still living. Fuck, it’s brilliant. Sorry.’ Suddenly I was drinking from a glass that was half full for the first time.

‘Tut, tut.’ Pattana hung the dishcloth on the cooker.

‘So that was it, you just said sorry for freaking them out, and then they left or what?’

‘Not before threatening me.’

‘Fuck.’

‘They told me I’d caused enough trouble and if I didn’t watch it, I’d be sorry.’

‘Jesus.’

‘Yes, Jesus indeed.’

‘That’s it, then?’ I wasn’t sure how to play things next, but I felt Hank was being overcautious and that there may be more to this case than met the eye.

‘Well, I don’t know but they were so resistant, I can’t imagine them coming round.’ Hank shrugged his shoulders.

‘What will I do?’ I was concerned but not panicked, for every day was a step nearer to meeting my mother and I wouldn’t be deterred now by anything or anyone.

‘I’m going to run you a nice hot bath. You need to soak your body, it will help it feel better,’ smiled Pattana.

‘That would be nice,’ I said, closing my eyes and breathing deeply. A bath would be nice and would give me some time to think.

‘Let’s take our drinks to the porch and talk a little, then I think you should get some sleep. You look like you’ve been through the wars.’

‘I have. I can’t imagine sleeping tonight, though.’

Hank offered me a refill but I declined for what felt like the first time ever. I didn’t need more wine. I felt high with excitement and hope.

‘Relax, no hurry,’ said Pattana, putting her hands on my shoulders, still warm from the dishes.

We chatted for a while, Hank being very patient and telling the story over and over until my bath was ready. I agreed with what he said in the truck on the way from the station. He did feel familiar, and we already felt like old friends.

I lay in the water looking up at the ceiling; I felt euphoric yet strangely calm. Nice classical piano music, maybe Chopin, drifted through from the lounge. I played at holding my breath under the water for as long as I could: if I held it for a minute then I would meet my mother. I hadn’t played this game since I was a child. The bathroom was nicely tiled, all clean and white, with little pieces of driftwood and shells lining the edge of the bath. I imagined my mother to be somewhere near, in the same city as me, the closest we had been for many years. Perhaps she was in her bath right now. I felt round my face and cheekbone, checking the swelling, and wondering what my real mum would make of the state of me, if we met before my wounds healed.

My mind drifted back to Anaya, whom I had temporarily forgotten. I started to miss her, and longed to have a new, improved night together. Maybe after my search was complete and I’d changed, I could meet up with her. I thought about her sliding around on top of me.

After my bath Pattana showed me to my room.

‘Hank asleep,’ she said, blowing out the candle on an oil burner next to where I was sleeping, which was a fold-down sofabed at the side porch extension, with bamboo blinds all around to keep out the daylight.

‘You like the smell?’ she asked.

‘Oh yes, very much, thank you.’ I stood in my bath towel, waiting for her to go so I could get into bed.

‘Geranium and lavender help you sleep and feel calm.’

I smiled.

‘Goodnight, Kerry, I hope you feel peace.’

‘I’m all right, really, but thanks for tonight, it was lovely.’

She smiled and left.

It was cosy in the room, which was full of books and an old card table. A strange item hung from the roof above me, made up of feathers and string and glistening wire stuff. I sat looking up at a gap in the blinds through the glass, hoping that the room wasn’t sun-facing in the morning. I pulled out my notebook that I’d hardly written in, and scribbled away all the information I could remember from Hank’s findings. I filled an entire page with Marys and question marks. I was not convinced that revealing only a Christian name would make her untraceable. I had ideas about what to do with that. I switched off the lamp on the card table beside me and lay back. A mild breeze blew the wind chimes outside; the clanking felt comforting. I got Anaya’s hairband from my bag and put it around my wrist. I would get some sleep now, then in a few hours, when I could be sure that Hank and Pat were sound asleep, I would creep round the house and find Hank’s folder and look at it for myself. Despite his kindness, I felt there was something in it he was hiding from me.

CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE

‘HELLO, KERRY, GOOD
morning,’ a voice sang above me.

I thought it was the ice-cream-van man in my dream; he looked like Hank. His van was covered in blue paintings of dragons. I was standing in line, my grandfather was there, but everyone else was a zombie slowly moving to the van. I was trying to get the attention of the old man serving before the zombies reached the line. The van was pulled by a unicorn; I tried to get on but kept sliding off, my flip-flops not helping.

I opened my eyes.

‘Kerry.’ It was Pattana giggling.

‘Oh my God, what time is it?’ I sat up, and felt the bruising around my face immediately.

‘You slept well, it’s almost nine o’clock, and how you feel? How is your face?’ She placed a reddish drink next to my bed.

‘The best I’ve slept in ages, feel stiff but much better, thanks.’ I pulled myself up. I felt good if a little disappointed at myself for not finding the folder.

‘I bring watermelon juice, very good for you.’

I gulped it down in one go. ‘Mmmm, that’s fantastic.’

‘You dream?’ Pattana smiled away.

‘Yeah, loads of dreams.’

‘The dream-catcher, that’s why.’ She pointed to the weird feather-wire thing above me.

‘Oh, right.’ I didn’t want to dismiss her thing by telling her I dreamt all the time, even when I was awake.

I heard a faint bell every few seconds coming from another part of the house. ‘What’s that?’

‘That’s Hank, he’s chanting. We are Buddhists, we chant every day.’

‘Right, I see.’ I smiled and nodded. I hadn’t met any Buddhists before and didn’t know much about it, except that it involved lengthy solitary praying of some sort.

‘I gotta go out now, you take your time. Hank will show you around, OK?’

‘Thank you so much, Pattana, you’re very kind.’

‘Not a problem.’ She left, taking the empty glass with her. I lay thinking about what to do. I didn’t really have very much to go on, and only had three days at the most until the others got here, when I’d have to move to group accommodation and spend my time selling with them. So I would have to maximise my time at Hank and Pat’s and do as much groundwork as possible, while enjoying the comforts on offer, which were the best I’d ever experienced.

I put on some clothes and went through to the house. I boiled the kettle and went in search of Hank. The bell clanging was louder as I crept up the stairs; I snuck up gently, not wanting to step onto a creaky floorboard and disturb him. I could hear him speaking in a different language, saying the same thing over and over, half singing it, with the bell that sounded like the old-fashioned kind someone rings by hand. The sounds were coming from the third room at the end, where the door was slightly ajar.

I went back down the stairs to the room before the kitchen, which was closed. As long as I could hear the bell, I knew I was safe to look around. I slowly pushed open the door and felt for a light switch as the curtains were still drawn. As I had thought, it turned out to be a study. There were certificates for physiotherapy and massage on the wall with the name Frank White on them, mostly dated from the early eighties to eighty-seven. There was a map of China in a frame, and a picture of an old lady in a garden surrounded by bright flowers, whom I took to be Hank’s mother. The bell stopped and my heart thumped, but then it started up again, with Hank repeating something starting with ‘nam’ and ending in ‘kyo’.